


Problem

by bonehandledknife (ladywinter), Primarybufferpanel (ArwenLune)



Series: The Mountains Are The Same [22]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Citadel Politics, Gen, Warboys dealing with a post-Joe world, creepy cowled people, there's all kinds of weird stuff going on at the citadel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 04:51:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4863806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladywinter/pseuds/bonehandledknife, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArwenLune/pseuds/Primarybufferpanel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Problem: Used in bouldering, the path that a climber takes in order to complete the climb. </i>
</p><p> </p><p>They say you should never make a deal with The Soundless, least ones you can’t keep. There has never been a one who’d gotten away with the better end of a deal unless they wanted themselves to end early and end soft. Renege on a deal with The Soundless and the nightfevers with claim you that same night, if you’re lucky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Problem

Ace looked up when the door opened, watching the wastelander come in. He nodded in greeting and came over to the windowledge, close to where Ace had settled.

“They, ah, they want me to leave," he said quietly, half an eye on Furiosa and the others, so as not to wake them. "in the morning.”

Ace darted his gaze towards him, “ _Who_ wants you to leave?” From checking in with the awed war pups, Ace had found out that this man was the one who’d thrown Immortan Joe to the Wretched, this man was the one who’d kept Furiosa alive, and had so visibly allied himself with Joe's widows. Opposition to him meant the crew would have much more work to do in the Citadel to gain support for Furiosa.

“The girls—,” Max backed away shaking his head, correcting himself, “Toast, and Capable, they asked me. To scout.”

“Oh,” Ace subsided, and glanced out the window. From the women’s accounts, the first of any war parties that might make it around the mountain range would be arriving in six or seven days. Less if they worked their way past the rock fall. “They found you a war buggy?”

The larger wheels and better handling should be able to allow the man to climb steep inclines.

“Mm. And a trailer, see if I can bring back any salvage.”

Ace nodded. The remaining war machines at the Citadel were as injured as the War Boys left behind, they’d need the supplies.

Furiosa stirred as if she'd heard them speak, and by mutual agreement they settled in for the night, postponing any discussion to the morning.

What neither of them saw was a dark form, perched on the smallest of handholds right outside the window, nod to itself and skitter away.

A different one took its place, seconds later.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Kompass suddenly jerked awake, eyes wide. Ace glanced over from his seat on the edge of the mattress and Austeyr made a sleepy noise of inquiry.

“Something wrong?” Ace asked.

His second only looked back as if unable to recognize him, and then untangled himself from the Boss and slipped out the room. Given the happenings of the last day, Ace found himself mildly gutted at the distrust, but mostly numb.

“I got it,” Austeyr yawned, and then stumbled after the man, Rachet snuffling and then rolling into the warm spot he’d left open next to Furiosa, apparently still asleep. Ace stared at the open spot on the Boss’ other side, the one that Kompass had left, and thought about fitting himself there.

But he didn't know if he’d be welcome, and right now he really, _really_ needed to be sure.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Kompass hadn’t gone far when Austeyr caught up to him, had made it up to the nearest intersection and then found himself staring at the crossroads blankly. The tunnels spun out around them in six directions, the sound weirdly muffled from racing winds and air pressure and the sensation of settling stone.

“Kompass?”

“How do I, how do I even find them, we usually go through the Fixer,” he’d muttered to himself. Then clenched at his head, “But we _need_ to because the Fixer can’t be trusted.”

“Find who?” Austeyr found himself whispering out of habit; this, the hour of nightfevers and death. “And why do we need to?”

“I’ve been,” Kompass swung around to look at him, and then blinked, then started hauling them down one of the tunnels until they hit an alcove. “I’ve been going around talking to people in the towers. Many of them want to talk to Furiosa personally, even though they claim they’d support her, and you know she’s not ready for that. And…” He looked around them.

“And…?” Austeyr asked leadingly.

“I don’t trust the Fixer,” Kompass said quietly and blew out a breath, “He wants no changes and with the things that happened at Tenday? With this new crew of Furiosa’s? _Change is coming_.”

He released Austeyrs arm and started pacing, ticking off the points as he knew them, “Corpus is the biggest concern; you weren’t here for the council meeting and apparently Furiosa was well enough to fight until Corpus’ men made her tear some stitches open and she got all fevered. Black and Green thumbs are all waiting on meetings with Furiosa, or at least making a show of wanting to talk to her directly. There’s a couple others that still watching for what happens when the war parties return; they'll go the way or whoever comes out on top. Bastards seem to only care about their own hides. And I can’t find where the Gatekeepers are holed up.” He raised his eyes to Austeyr, “I wish Morsov was here, he’d know what to do with this, we need to get to the,” and his voice dropped even lower, “the Soundless before the Fixer does, try to commit them on our side.”

“Because the War pups and most Warboys are for Furiosa?” Austeyr questioned.

“Not only that, but the green and the water are held by the widows and the milkers,” Kompass told him. “But some of the rare parts we need, wire for the windmills and lights, new tires and rubbers for the rigs, lead for our pipes; all those items are smuggled in through the Soundless— let alone what they can do on the regular,” he shuddered. “If they make War on the Boss—”

“—it’d tear the Citadel apart,” Austeyr answered.

Kompass nodded miserably.

“Well, how do we find them then?”

They stared at each other.

 

* * *

 

_They say you should never make a deal with The Soundless, least ones you can’t keep. There has never been a one who’d gotten away with the better end of a deal unless they wanted themselves to end early and end soft. Renege on a deal with The Soundless and the nightfevers with claim you that same night, if you’re lucky._

_There are stories of the ones who aren’t lucky; the ones who’d boasted of getting the best of a deal, and started choking mid-boast to spit out pieces of their lungs. The ones who ran, after stealing from an exchange, and found themselves falling to their deaths against the ground below, joints twisted awry and deformed. The ones who gave false payment and wake up with a new scar and things missing from their belly. Like a liver._

_Sometimes even if you deal fairly the payment is deemed not enough, and your most precious thing (and it is_ _**always** _ _the most precious thing) will disappear. Whisper their name to the wrong person and you’ll die the softest, sweetest death you can imagine._

_No one has ever seen their faces, or heard their voices, or even touched one, caught one. They crawl like smoke and shadows up the sides of the Citadel and slip in where the light don’t reach._

 

* * *

 

At this point they were just wandering down the hallways, picking the ones that skirt the cliffs instead of the sleep areas, Kompass quietly catching Austeyr up on the events of the past three days, stumbling a little on recounting the happenings during the Remembering.

“That’s how you found out, huh,” Austeyr murmured.

“Or at least when it fully hit,” Kompass said glumly, then braced himself and admitted to one of the few crewmates he had left, “I wish I’d known, somehow, I wish I hadn’t—” all the things he wished he’d hadn’t done shoved up against each other in his throat and nothing came out due to all of them being crushed there.

“—wish you hadn’t said some things?” the lancer guessed.

And Kompass nodded mutely.

“Think more ‘n one of us feels like that, ey?” Austeyr crashed his shoulder companionably against his, but Kompass just grunts and keeps walking.

“You didn’t seem to have much trouble.”

“Ah well,” the was the sound of a neck cracking and a bit of scratching, “when you’d left for Tenday, Ace and that wastelander had a bit of a chat so I was alone with the Boss while.... while she said some things.”

Kompass slammed to a stop and turned to the other warboy, “What ‘things’?”

“She… I think she would’ve never said such a thing had she not been fevered but,” Austeyr shrugged uncomfortably, “I think she thought it was back when she was still a wife of Joe’s.”

Kompass felt everything in him still, muscles and breath and heartbeat.

“She asked me to help her hide the blood, something about losing the baby,” Austeyr’s voice dropped even lower, “And you know how she is; it must’ve been a lot, for her to ask for help.” He takes a deep breath, “She was so scared.”

It was nothing Kompass hadn’t put together with memory of the scarring on Furiosa’s belly and the names Remembered by the breeders but to hear it laid out like that, by crew, made it yet another level of true. And the worst of it was there was nothing he could _do_ ; no one he could pull away from her, no one he could unWitness. Joe had been their Redeemer for all those many days, they’ve Witnessed him already, many times. Kompass _still_ reflexively thought of the good that Joe did them all and the knowledge that _all this time_ while they cheered his name Furiosa might’ve been bleeding with the sound of it, this... clawed at him.

“What can we even _do_?” Austeyr muttered as if reading his mind, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes, rubbing, “It’s already happened.”

“Can’t spike the dead,” Kompass reminded himself, letting out a frustrated sigh, “and she’s chosen new crew, maybe. Even though I still don’t know how we’re all to work together.”

“And we still need to find _Them_.”

“Find who?” a new voice popped out. Kompass stared at the form that melted out of the shadows until a name popped up in his memory. ‘Deka,’ the Wretched representative at that Council meeting.

“Hey it’s you,” Austeyr said in surprise, “I remember you from when I first arrived.”

Deka gave the other warboy a long look and then shook her head, “Nevermind that, find who?”

“You probably won’t know them,” Kompass felt irritated, “they’re powerful people dealing in priceless things and they don’t show their face to any, let alone a Wretc—”

“Oh _them_ ,” Deka interrupted. And turned abruptly to go down a hallway.

They watched her go, stupefied.

She turned back to them at the next intersection, “Oi, do I need t’wait for you to take a leak?”

Kompass caught up even as Austeyr let out of bark of laughter.  This might be a dead end but it’s the only thing they’ve got at the moment.

 

* * *

 

It’s not a dead end.

Kompass needs to shave. The short hairs new-grown at the back of his neck are upright with his alarm and itch like crazy. The tiny bead of sweat working it’s way down is also irritating, and so is the feeling that he should not move, he should not twitch, he should not shift, and they’ll catch that weakness because he’s standing under a predator’s eyes.

Even if he can’t make out eyes.

Deka had led them back up the corridor to a well-travelled passage, a place they’ve both walked by several times, where there’d been an alcove to an air vent that funneled the groans of the windmills down to the hallways. Their eyes had grown wide when she’d crawled up the air vent as it angled diagonally upwards and then… disappeared.

“You boys comin’?”

They scrambled after, best they could, getting scratched up by rock through a passage that really hadn’t been created with their shoulders in mind, perhaps even purposefully made so narrow. One only had to wedge into the vent a little before there was a downward opening, and Kompass and then Aus dropped through it.

It was a small room, that they could barely make out in the dim starlight, open to the air on the far end. The opening was curtained by a thick fall that rustled like greenery. Deka moved towards it, but waved them back when they tried to follow. When she reached the edge, she picked up a triangular wedge of stone and started tapping along the edge until she found a section that seemed to resonate and echo more than the rest. And then she started tapping at it in what seems an aimless pattern, pausing occasionally to press her ear against the stone.

They’d almost grown bored with watching her, and Kompass had turned to Austeyr to say they should leave, when suddenly two dark forms stood by the entrance, leaves barely rustling with their passage, one tall, one short.

“Archive,” Deka bowed, “Didn’t think you’d arrive, yourself. I welcome both you and your Apprentice.”

As usual, The Soundless were completely covered and cowled, featureless. They tilted their heads in acknowledgement at Deka and then turned towards the Warboys.

And seemed to stare for an exceptionally long time.

“Ah,” Deka caught herself, having also been staring, “Apologies, this is Austeyr, and that one’s Kompass. They’re of Furiosa’s crew and spoke of wanting to talk with you directly.”

The black robed figures kept their silence and continued looking. And that’s when the silence grew oppressive. Kompass has no idea of the protocol, or how not to offend. He breathed lightly trying to figure out his words and when and where to begin. They’ve always gone through the Fixer and never met these men before, though from what little he knows, the Archive is ancient. Maybe even the _original_ Soundless, having seen and caused the passing of countless half-lives.

Sometime between his blinks, the Soundless moved closer to them.

He flinched as the Archive brought both gloved hands up, but the Soundless only started folding them together in sharp patterns, ending in a brief wave that even Kompass understood as marking the previous gestures as a question, directed towards him.

“ ‘For… what reason do you come’ ?” Deka translated slowly, looking towards the Soundless, who’d nodded.

“For Furiosa,” Kompass replied.

“For the _Citadel_ ,” Austeyr added, “We all know that Joe is dead by her hand, and she’s come back to claim all that was his. We seek the best for everyone living in these towers.”

“ ‘Everyone’ ?” The Archive signed.

“Maybe not the Fixer,” Kompass muttered, glancing down for an irresponsible moment, because when he looked up again the Apprentice had disappeared. He looked around quickly but couldn’t see him and he almost took a step back. It made his hackles rise, “And maybe not anyone who threatens us.”

“Not,” Austeyr said, lazily, “That we think you a threat,” the respect in his voice made it vague whether the statement was an insult or an acknowledgement of allies. Kompass found himself impressed. “But I’m sure you’ve heard we have incoming.”

“ ‘There has _already_ been arrivals’,” somehow the hands themselves were sarcastic, “ ‘Such as yourself, and that feral.’ “

“Do you think he is a threat?” Austeyr shot back.

“ ‘As an unloaded gun is to its wielder.’ “

Even as Kompass tried to decipher the ‘tone’ of the hands, Austeyr was already saying, “You’ve heard of their plans to have him scout then.”

“ ‘He doesn’t seem the best… equipped for it.’ “ The Archive threw the words out as if washing themselves of it, “ ‘Most likely he will run off with the supplies. And if he doesn’t, he’ll get run down by survivors or the carrion eaters of the wastes. It speaks little of your judgement.’ “

“I can vouch for him,” Austeyr insisted, and slid into thoughtfulness with nary a pause, “ _But_ if you were invested in his success, it might do with a little show of support. Given that supporting him means supporting Furiosa.”

The Archive seemed taken aback and it took Kompass a moment to understand why; they’ve revealed their interest in the wastelander, and then expressed concern that he wouldn’t be effective at his task. Which meant that they were interested in his succeeding, and that they saw merit in what Furiosa’s crew had been attempting. But asking them so blatantly for an _item_ of support would visibly tie the Soundless to Furiosa, a public statement.

“ ‘Support something so brittle?’ “

“If you consider brittle to be someone who’d helped Furiosa defeat the Immortan Joe, and revive her. Someone who by accounts near single-handledly took out fleets of war boys attacking the Rig. Who was bestowed an Imperator’s scarf by Furiosa herself.”

“ ‘She gave him a scarf?’ “

“Saw it myself. Where in the Wasteland could he have gotten something so black?”

The hands folded against each other for a moment in thought.

Kompass saw the advantage and clearly Austeyr did too because he followed it up, “The scouting should take him through the canyon and a ways beyond it, just enough to get us some numbers, see how many survivors of the crash, maybe get the Citadel some salvage and supplies.”

“ ‘That blasted Joe. Used up most the Citadel’s stores just to chase that girl down.’ “ The Archive seemed to claw his words out, but continued, “ ‘There’d be survivors of the crash, too many left from here for there not to be. The feral will get overwhelmed.’ “

“He can hold his own in a fight, but more importantly,” Austeyr took a breath, “I don’t think he’ll have to. He stopped me from fighting him with maybe twenty words and some grunts. He has the scarf; you know how well respected our crew is, and he’s all but inducted. He’ll leave with a crew’s chrome.”

“ ‘And if he still fails?’ ”

Austeyr’s smile grew sideways and wry, “I will take the fall, and no one else.”

Kompass’ gut wrenched, the lancer was all but offering to die soft.

“ ‘And if he succeeds?’ ”

“You will be part of his success, if you showed support.”

The Archive hummed thoughtfully and brought his hand up. The dark form seemed to suddenly split as the black-robed Apprentice stepped out from the Archive’s shadow ( _but from where?_ ) and Kompass tried not to flinch.

Apprentice placed something in Archive’s palm.

“ ‘I think your feral could use this little something.’ ”

Apprentice handed over whatever it was to Deka, who’d passed it to Austeyr in turn. Kompass saw it was a small round tin, and when Austeyr opened it up and smelled it, his eyes grew wide.

“This is more than just _support_ .” Austeyr hissed, and Kompass agreed if it was what he thought it was. Maybe a gun, some goggles, those would make sense, not this thing that would put them into _debt_ …

Kompass grew cold with the realization, of the near trick, of how much they would be beholden if they give nothing in trade, “What do we owe for this?”

“ ‘Simply an audience with your Imperator, a… fair _hearing_ of our interests. But soon.’ “ It frankly sounded like slime to Kompass’ ear.

“Can’t you talk to her yourselves?” Austeyr said, closing up the tin and trying to give it back to Deka, who backed away.

“ ‘We find her a little intractable.’ ”

Kompass is not surprised that Furiosa would not wish to deal with these shadows; she’d always seemed strong with her convictions and principles, and these men come off like the Fixer. Determined to get their own way with sideways talk. He wondered how much of their entire conversation was to get them to this point, how much they’ve been played into this ambush, “And how can we even trust this is what you say it is, what if this was poison?” What if they’d thought to use it for Furiosa?

“Trust it,” Austeyr said not taking his eyes from the Soundless.

“How do you know?”

“ ‘This one knows contraband ‘,” even the hand gesture looks amused.

“If it works false then all they’d achieve during their meeting will go sour when the wastelander doesn’t come back,” Austeyr said, “The whole reason why they’re trading this is because Furiosa isn’t willing to deal with them at all. And they need her to help defend the Citadel.” The lancer was watching the Soundless closely.

“ ‘If she wasn’t so petty we’d have more dealings through the years.’ “ The Ancient admitted.

“Petty!” That does not sound like the Boss Kompass knew, even considering recent revelations.

“ ‘Petty, hah, yes, small-visioned, you will see.’ “ The Archive seemed to focus, uncomfortable sharp, “ ‘Are we agreed then? A meeting with Furiosa where you open her ears to us if the feral appears again on the horizon? We shall see to more support if he succeeds.’ ”

Kompass wonders why does the Soundless make it sound like they know her better than crew? It makes him shiver, uncertain. It makes him want to double check her room and the hallways around it. And head back right away to check in.

Austeyr looked at Kompass and though they look at each other sick with the idea of allowing this man made of nightfever into the Boss’ presence, but here in front of them was what they were looking for: support thrown in for their side. Support for the decisions Furiosa’s women were making, for the people that Furiosa’s supporting, enough that once reports get back to the Fixer it should give him enough pause to not make the Citadel make War on itself.

They both nod to the Soundless, “Agreed.”

 

* * *

 

As they were walking back to the Imperator’s quarters, Deka having slipped away quickly soon after, Kompass can’t help but think about how well Austeyr handled that; he’d known the lancer was good with talking and with people but never suspected something like what he’d just seen, how rapidly the warboy had seen and understood and responded. “How do you know they weren’t lying, that they even care about that wastelander succeeding?”

“They’re protecting something,” Austeyr replied, “something in the Citadel; the war parties made his hands nervous.”

“And you’re sure the wastelander won’t fail?” Kompass pressed, because the war boy was betting a soft death on his success. Moreover, they were so short on crew that they needed all hands, and ones they know they can trust. Ones that they know are talented, that understand, and that can _make_ people understand. Kompass thought about how quickly Austeyr got all the things that the rest of crew had been struggling with these past couple days and even though it made him uncomfortable jealous and a bit ashamed, he found it a relief that the war boy was there for Furiosa when she’d dreamt of her past, and here for Furiosa when things needed bargaining. That Austeyr offered to take the wastelander’s failure on himself—

“Pretty sure it’ll be fine, he’s strong.” Aus hummed and shrugged, “We’d be fighting two fronts, from within and from the war parties, if he fails anyway. If they gun for me first then that means they’d be distracted. I’ll make sure to go out historic, take some of them with me,” a short laugh, “well best I can do to make myself a little useful.”

Kompass slowed down a little and stared at the back of Austeyr’s head. The war boy’s words made sense but they made his gut roil all the same, and he felt so incredibly angry suddenly.

He didn’t understand why.

 

* * *

 

Max darts a glance at Furiosa, away from the sight of the sun cracking itself open on the edge of the desert, as she leans against Austeyr and accepting yet another bottle of mother’s milk being pressed onto her by an insistent Rachet. Her face is unamused as she smells the liquid and darts her gaze at the elder who heals. The Nightingale only shrugs with a face that says, _what can you do?_ and _you need rest, you know better_. Furiosa's mouth twists as she drinks sullenly.

Ace finds himself exchanging a commiserating look with this wasteland stray, who then squints at him as if weighing him. Tilts his head, then, face satisfied.

The door opens and Austeyr walks in with a pack and Max moves forward to take it from him. The moment seems to hang as he looks towards Furiosa and she sets down the milk. She quirks her mouth a little, and he furrows his brows at her and tilts his head while he sweeps out a hand gesture; and her shoulders shake as if he’d told a joke. He nods at it.

She nods back.

And he leaves.

“What—,” the Ace feels like he’s reeling. “What just…”

“ _We keep going_ ,” Furiosa replies as if quoting the wastelander though they exchanged no words, grimly slamming back the rest of the milk and resignedly settles into a position to sleep. “He has things to do. Maybe getting some supplies.”

Ace knows for a fact that the sisters haven’t wanted to bother Furiosa with their concerns, that everyone wanted her rested and healed. How did this feral convey all that wordlessly... how in only three days did he create this easy language with Furiosa; while Ace, despite knowing her for many thousanddays, still finds himself _reeling_ for how to respond to misreading her so badly for all of those thousand days..

Since she couldn't trust in him, maybe she's chosen the Wastelander as her new Ace?

His wheels feel come off.

 

* * *

 

Austeyr followed Max down to the buggy they were lending him, up until Max was right in front of the vehicle. The stocky war boy from Furiosa’s crew was checking it over, frown on his face, not paying them any attention.

Max gave Austeyr a pointed look, _are you trying to get an invite, because you’re needed here._

Austeyr just shook his head, “Aren’t you gonna check the bag?”

Max raised an eyebrow and riffled through it, food mostly, a couple canisters of water, a couple bullets that fit his gear— which Max furrowed his head at— a can which rattled when he shook it, and a small flat round tin of what is labeled as Shoe Polish. He blinked. Pulled the can and the tin out.

He shook the can at Austeyr in question and the man just shrugged.

Looked a bit uncomfortable as he says, “Chrome, in case—”

Max didn't know how to feel about that, but he understood the stuff was highly valued and meant well, so he just nodded in acknowledgement and thanks. When he carefully unscrewed the lid of the flat tin he was met with the sight of a mud-colored cream that smelled green and strange. He glanced up and Austeyr was glancing up and around, his large hands closing around Max’s and hiding the sight of the cream away.

“Hey, be careful with that, you don’t know what I had to—” Austeyr breathed deep, and frustrated, as he takes the tin out of Max’s hands and closes it. “Look, I’ve heard the buzz and chances are you may be meeting up with the war party. Where’s that scarf the Boss gave ya?”

Max tugs it out of his jacket, bemused.

“Wear it. Tell them who gave it to you if they ask.” Austeyr looked around them and lowered his voice, “There’d always been this - I guess you can say envy -  towards our crew. Warboys might fall in if they hear you’re favored,” an uncertain shrug, “I mean they weren’t all for Furiosa but, they most were. Or seemed to.”

Max lifted up the can with a questioning sound, and Austeyr nodded.

“All Warboys have one.”

Huh, Max lifted the tin, “And this?”

“Shh—!” Austeyr gestured at him to tone it down, and his next words were hushed. “That is. Well you’re not supposed to have that. Contraband. But if you’re bringing back War Boys like you did me...” He shifted, awkward. “It… tempers pain. Heals wounds quicker. We’re not supposed to use, I mean it’s made from an incredible amount of, it’s _frivolous_ — ”

Max had never seen words fail the other man so completely, not when the lancer was pressed into the sand, not when he’d thought he’d lost and was arguing his last chance to make it back to the Citadel.

“But if you use it, tell them it’s from the… the Soundless.”

Max opened his mouth to ask but a hand was slapped across it.

“Don’t you say their name here,” Aus’ eyes darted around, “They call you… well, I don’t have a hold of what they think of you yet, don’t draw attention.” He shook Max lightly, hand still pressed against his mouth, then let him go. “It should help establish you, with the rest of the warboys. Make them more willing to listen. Use the extra food, too, the provisions.”

Max nodded at this. Luring strays from the wastes was a process he was intimately familiar with now, from both sides.

Austeyr stepped back and looked the buggy over and hummed. Said towards it, kind of uselessly, “Hurry back. They say maybe six more days until the first of the war parties start arriving from around the mountains.”

“Don’t want two fronts,” Max agreed. The stocky war boy looked up from the buggy at that and his eyes were narrowed.

“No.” Austeyr cleared his throat, “I’ve never seen the Boss so— she’s so winded. There used to be nineteen of us. Now there’s four.”

Max nodded and stilled as Austeyr leaned in again, watched and weighed him, and then conked his forehead against his own.

“Maybe five. So hurry back.”

Max either nodded again or shook his head, he can’t quite tell, a bit dazed. Before he knew it, he’d found himself headbutted again by the other war boy, who’d swept out with a muttered intense command, “ _Succeed_.”

Austeyr was already leaving the garage and Max glanced down at the scarf that’s left in his hand and swung it around his neck. Checked that the pack was secured to the trailer, and started up the buggy, hopping on.

He left the Citadel, watching his path but with his mind still left at the garage wondering what all that was.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the wonderful reviews and enthusiastic response you're giving us to this series! We have regular 'OMG did you see that one review?!' squee sessions via IM.


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